


a ripple on the water

by risquetendencies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Getting Together, Knowing Each Other So Well, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, a tiny bit of akaashi character study between the romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28036158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: Like Bokuto said himself, this is it.Tonight is also the last good chance he has with Bokuto nearby to confess.Keiji’s eyes dart, scanning their surroundings. There is no one on Fukurodani’s grounds as diligent as them, to be using the gym in graduation season. Before their eyes there is a wall of green, trees rising up from the ground to surround the school. Between the gaps in the trunks, he spies the sunset, a canvas of orange that will later burn itself out into purple then deepest blue.If he were the protagonist in a romantic film, this would be it. The correct moment to act.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 22
Kudos: 151





	a ripple on the water

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my darlings Ju (@jun699) and Deen (@wormydeen) for beta-reading! 💖

Placid. That is how he is most often perceived. It isn’t entirely untrue. The trouble is that people think that the description covers everything that he is. Sometimes, placid matches Keiji’s exterior. 

But always beneath, there is chaos. Unseen, but very much present.

Perhaps all human beings relate to the idea that their minds are one writhing mess of thoughts, emotions, and needs. He watches movies; reads manga and books. While some characters are portrayed to be flawless, more and more often these days, the typical protagonist is less idealized. They are selfish, or speak before they think, or have a short temper. Imperfect.

Keiji feels that sentiment daily. For him, it’s the fact that he can’t shut his brain off.

Not even in matters pertaining to the heart.

“Guess that’s it then!” Bokuto announces to the world, voice half a sigh. Somehow, he manages to infuse with the words with a tinge of cheerfulness despite their content.

He sounds like someone at peace with the transition he’s about to embark on. Keiji knows that’s the truth. He’s glad that Bokuto harbors no regrets about his time in high school. On their team. Bokuto has much to be proud of, both before and now. Keiji is pleased for him. Proud, also. If there is anyone he believes has the right to remember their teenage years with fondness, it’s Bokuto. 

Keiji’s palms shift against the concrete steps they sit on, its rough texture stinging his skin. The result of one last overeager, unnecessary practice. He would do it again in a heartbeat.

Like Bokuto said himself, this is it.

Tonight is also the last good chance he has with Bokuto nearby to confess.

Keiji’s eyes dart, scanning their surroundings. There is no one on Fukurodani’s grounds as diligent as them, to be using the gym in graduation season. Before their eyes there is a wall of green, trees rising up from the ground to surround the school. Between the gaps in the trunks, he spies the sunset, a canvas of orange that will later burn itself out into purple then deepest blue.

If he were the protagonist in a romantic film, this would be it. The correct moment to act.

Keiji steels himself, straightening his spine and sucking a curt breath in.

“Your basic training-”

No, that isn’t-

“Training?” Bokuto latches on, casting wide, golden eyes at him that gleam with surprise. He has probably been waiting for the opening to babble, uncertain that he’d get it.

In a less charged situation, Keiji would concede. He likes hearing Bokuto talk, even when their conversations are little more than one-sided speeches that go on too long, peppered with a unique level of enthusiasm for mundane topics. He treasures the sweeping body language and the way Bokuto’s voice can bounce between high and playful to low and grumbling. There are more, like the sharp, disdainful tone Bokuto uses when he’s angry. Keiji has heard it just once – by accident.

**. . . . .**

_ He still remembers freezing in the hallway, something in his body instinctively reacting to the force of the voice echoing from around the corner. Keiji had been leaving his classroom to meet Bokuto for lunch. At first, he hadn’t realized it was Bokuto speaking. His feet had stopped moving on their own, cowed into inactivity. _

_ “Why should I be worried?” Bokuto had asked, an unusual suspicion coloring his response. _

_ Bokuto wasn’t one to read too far into people or their motives. Whatever they gave him he accepted at face value. His observational skills were relegated, for the most part, toward his opponents in volleyball. _

_ If Keiji had been walking, the other person’s statement would have been reason to pause. Nothing compared to the commanding presence they were invoking, but their words were enough to strike fear into his heart. _

_ “There’s a rumor. Akaashi-kun is… he’s a bit weird. All those love letters on Valentine’s and he didn’t even care.” _

_ The rumor was based on a kernel of truth. He had received a few bags of chocolate but even more confession letters. Responding to them all would have been pointless, and the consideration would have invited future attempts. Keiji had concluded the best course of action was to simply do nothing. Let the admiring eyes at school know that he had no interest. _

_ “People think, maybe…” the stranger hesitated. _

_ His pulse had pounded in his ears, a lump forming in his throat strongly enough to choke off his breathing. Keiji had seen where their thoughts were headed. And he had known Bokuto’s intuition was keen enough to guess, even if the other person wasn’t bent on drilling the idea into his head without leaving room for alternate interpretations. _

_ “He’s probably into guys.” _

_ True. If it were just that, and had Bokuto not been so critical, Keiji might have been able to keep walking. Rounded the corner and put on a good show of ignoring the busybody as he fetched his friend for lunch. Rumors were a dime a dozen in high school. He could have downplayed it as another silly story and redirected Bokuto’s attention to less concerning things.  _

_ But it was specifically true that he liked one boy. Very much, perhaps from as early on as the first time he’d seen him. _

_ At least the gossips had good instincts on who to warn. _

_ “What’s wrong with that?!” Bokuto boomed.  _

_ The declaration sent shockwaves up Keiji’s spine. Fear was knocked clean away, a tense silence ebbing in to fill the empty space. For a few seconds, he, and everyone within a twenty-foot radius, were dazed by the impact. _

_ Bokuto was capable of sounding enraged.  _

_ Keiji hadn’t known that, had assumed the muttering, sulking, and the occasional indignant squawks were the chorus that accompanied his star’s testier moods. He had seen the feral grins when Bokuto was on a hot streak playing, been front row center to the dramatics when he tailspinned into a low. Bokuto possessed some rough edges. But this untamed anger was new. Sudden. Mystifying. _

_ Most of all, because it was on his behalf. _

_ “Hey, man, it’s just a rumor. But you might want to be careful. He’s always with you.” _

_ “So?” Keiji could almost visualize the lifted jaw, the arms crossed petulantly over Bokuto’s broad chest. “Akaashi’s the best. Any guy would be lucky, if that’s who he wanted!” _

_ Bokuto didn’t mind. _

_ After realizing that, he regained the ability to walk. Keiji had waited a safe minute and a half before turning the corner, though, schooling his expression into the usual. Beneath the veneer, his heart had been full to bursting, buoyed with echoes of ‘the best’ on an erratic loop.  _

_ His head had rung – ‘any guy would be lucky’ – to the point where he’d spilled pickled beet from his lunch onto the sleeve of his school uniform.  _

_ Bokuto had pointed a finger in his face and teased him about the stain, saying that he’d remember well the day that the meticulous Akaashi Keiji did something clumsy. _

_ He’d never had his sights set on just  _ any _ guy. _

**. . . . .**

“They wanna do a bunch of drills with me there, see how I work with the others!”

Part of Keiji falters, concern chipping at his determination. 

He is anxious for Bokuto’s debut into the professional leagues to go smoothly. It’s unlikely that he will get to play right from the starting gates, but first impressions are important. Keiji wants to ask what Bokuto’s plan is for making his mark, or offer the suggestions he has been mulling over since the other night, when Bokuto had called to tell him about being signed. He was the first friend to find out, Bokuto had noted. The one he’d wanted to know before anyone else, because that had felt right.

Lying in his bed, Keiji had given silent thanks for the distance that separated them. Because the weight of those carelessly spoken statements had bowled him over. They had made him more resolved to confess, if only to be just as honest about how much their bond mattered from his end. 

“Bokuto-san.”

He earns a hum and Bokuto’s hands stopping midway through a spiking motion to accompany his story.

“I am very excited for you. But that isn’t what I meant to say. There is something else I hoped to discuss while we are in one place.”

His fingers tense against the steps once more, but the uneasy sting is almost welcome as a distraction from his surging nerves.

“Well, not discuss,” Keiji amends his statement. “Tell.”

He stares at the ground. Even in the right time and romantic atmosphere, he is not the type of protagonist who can look someone in the eye and lay out their feelings. 

“It probably will not matter, but I wanted-”

A hand breeches the distance, grasping his shoulder. Keiji stiffens, a pit forming low in his stomach.

“Of course it matters!” Bokuto says, warmth from his hand seeping through the thin cotton of Keiji’s shirt sleeve. “You’ve got that scrunchy face thing going. Are you sad, ‘Kaashi, about whatever you want to say to me?”

“No.”

Keiji can feel the muscles in his face and how they’re tensing, but he didn’t realize it created a memorable expression. Or that it’s one Bokuto has somehow catalogued, associating it with sadness. If he gives it further thought, though, there may be some sadness involved. Even if he gets the confession out, there’s no guarantee of how it will be received. 

Even if it was somehow acknowledged, there are many practical reasons why it will become meaningless. Bokuto moving, the differences between their new stations in life, the fact that it’s all a dead end anyway. There is no happily ever after in love ending for them. There is just Keiji, being the slightest bit satisfied that, for once, he was capable of being bold. Courageous and honest, like the person he’s enchanted by.

He knows that’s as good as it will get, has come to terms with it long before today, and yet, he almost wants to cry.

Oh. Perhaps that’s where Bokuto had picked up the expression from.

Keiji forces his mind to reset. 

The longer he waits, the less coherent this confession will be.

“Bokuto-san, I like you.”

There is solid earth beneath his feet at the bottom of the steps, but the rest of Keiji lacks an anchor, feeling like it will float away on a nonexistent wind with barely a push. It’s ironic that in admitting his long-stewing affection, he’s closer to the sky than he’s ever been able to climb. But it’s not enough to get that far, because he’s still unable to touch the brightly-shining star that is his goal.

Keiji holds high standards for himself. Reaching them sometimes doesn’t happen, and he accepts that. It’s motivation to strive harder, and he generally is content to make progress at all. But the habit has never felt so discouraging until now.

He’s not sure what he expects, diving into this confession knowing the outcome.

“I like you too!”

Keiji swallows hard, throat protesting against the lump in it.

“I mean it in a romantic manner,” he whispers, the volume as much as he can manage. His eyes are stinging, the urge to shut them and fight the tears growing stronger.

“I do too, though.”

“But do not worry, I-”

The pressure behind Keiji’s eyes breaks, flowing out from pure overload. He can’t do this. He can’t keep elaborating, not when their hearts are in such different places. 

His breathing quickens, and he feels the hand on his shoulder slide down. It moves past the hem of his sleeve, down along the toned planes of his forearm and loosely hooks into the claw-like shape of his fist, Bokuto’s thumb resting on top while his fingers fill the gap Keiji’s have created. He rubs his thumb over the skin soothingly as Keiji processes the sudden rush of sensations running rampant within his body.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried? I worry about you lots, ‘Kaashi, because you don’t listen to me!” Bokuto says, still massaging away. His tone is a mixture of scolding and resignation. The reply sobers Keiji up more than anything, because it’s incorrect. 

“I listen to you regularly, Bokuto-san,” he insists, eyes sliding over to assess their joined hands. “Whether or not I implement the suggestions is less frequent.”

He doesn’t know why he’s engaging, but talking feels better than sinking into his melancholy. Even if it means they’re leaving the topic he set out to open tonight for volleyball. He’s opened it. It’s out there, if ready to be brushed under the rug. Now they can proceed to the next chapter, where he retreats into keeping his love quiet, and Bokuto continues to rise higher and higher into glory.

“What did I just say then?” Bokuto counters, probably pursing his lips out childishly.

Keiji ferrets around, trying to analyze what point the other is building toward. Bokuto is concerned that he doesn’t listen to him. He is worried about Keiji, somehow. Due to the not listening allegation. Does he want acknowledgement that he heard him confirm their friendship? Because that is-

Bokuto sighs.

“You didn’t.”

His fingers tighten around Keiji’s hand and the pressure shocks him into looking up, meeting the intent gaze fixed on him.

“I’m romantic with you all the time!” 

“What?” The question shoots from Keiji’s lips.

Bokuto’s eyes gleam like when he’s spotted an opening in a line of blockers across the net. With the same sense of satisfaction, if slightly less intimidating. He looks pleased at Keiji’s blunt outburst.

“Been waiting for you to catch up!”

Keiji feels too impatient to deal with the shock anymore.

“Catch up? I don’t... I do not think you understood me well, then, Bokuto-san. This is nothing new, how I feel toward you. Before we started practicing together, I believe that is when it may have happened,” he rambles, words spilling over his tongue clunkily as he tries to push them out past his clenching jaw. 

“Mine’s not that long maybe, but it’s been a while!” Bokuto interrupts. “I knew you weren’t ready to accept it though, so I never said nothing!”

Keiji stares.

“What?”

He doesn’t care that he’s repeating himself.

“That’s what I mean by you don’t listen to me!” Bokuto exclaims. “I just said it, but I’ve said it other ways too before! Like when I say you’re awesome when we play together, or-”

“I had assumed those were superlatives.”

“No! I get to play with lots of cool people, but you’re my favorite setter. Or person. Yeah, person! Because you’re you, Akaashi! I’d like us to be closer.”

And because Bokuto is nothing if not courageous in the pursuit of his dreams, he scoots over. Their thighs brush together, hands now clasped close to Bokuto’s chest. He tugs Keiji’s hand, bringing it to rest it over his thundering heartbeat. 

Bokuto is capable of being worked up over him. 

“Actually… I might call it love already. Is that okay?”

Keiji feels the pulse beneath his palm, noting it’s much gentler than what concrete has to offer. The thrum is alive, reassuring, and powerful. But would never hurt him. He doesn’t think that Bokuto would either.

“I know it’s gonna be difficult with the distance, but you’re ready. And I want you to know anyway, so would you go out with me finally?”

Turning, Keiji leans into Bokuto’s expectant warmth and answers it with his lips. The hand feeling out Bokuto’s heartbeat curls into his shirt, clutching at it as Keiji presses in, resolved. There’s an answering hum, and then a tongue flicking against his lips, asking for even more like always. Keiji indulges, voice cutting on a moan as Bokuto’s tongue slips inside, darting across his with interest Keiji’s only ever imagined. 

Their breath is hitched when they break apart, but he has no complaints.

He meets Bokuto’s eyes again, unafraid.

“For me, it is love also.”

There are a thousand things Keiji wants to add. That he will cherish the moments they do steal to spend together in the near future. That he will wait for a time when they can share moments like this daily, until it is simply their life, with cozy wakeups and well-worn routines. But for now, that seems sufficient. 

Keiji is fine if his thoughts are tucked beneath the surface of his still waters, unseen by most people.

Bokuto is brave enough to dive under and discover them.

**Author's Note:**

> This once was a drabble, but Akaashi thinks so much that it quickly became longer. So I resigned myself to making it practice at keeping a oneshot under 3K words (and barely succeeded, but succeeded so Yes) because there's... a project I need to do that for in the near future. 
> 
> Anyway, Akaashi always seems to be pining when I write him. I hope one day he can just be at peace, for he is Cherished. 😔💓


End file.
